Sheila Sanchez emerges from among the bunkbeds after gathering her flowers, in preparation for her wedding at the city's homeless shelter. The bride found her dress at a discount store and another tent resident bought her bouquet. She met her betrothed at another shelter and they dated for several years. The ceremony was performed by a Seventh Day Adventist priest and a nonprofit donated enough money for them to spend their wedding night in a hotel instead of on separate cots in a congregate shelter tent.

Juanita Sams, 47, sleeps on a bed of cushions sandwiched between two shopping carts. She raised four children and has done a lot of volunteer work. She hopes to eventually get a job being a nanny because she loves working with children.

Veterans of the U.S. Navy, left, Marines and Army, stand together for the Pledge of Allegiance at the start of Stand Down, a three-day event for homeless veterans in San Diego.

Clayton "Sarge" T. Peffer Jr. waits under an awning in the rain on Broadway in downtown San Diego on Veteran's Day, for passersby to donate enough money to buy a cup of coffee. He is hoping for his housing voucher application to be approved soon so he can move indoors for the first time in three and a half years. The Veterans Administration's VASH program got Sarge off the street but he died six months later.

Homeless individuals pile their belongings onto shopping carts as the city's environmental services department does weekly sweeps of homeless camp sites on public land downtown.

Honey (Lakeesha), 39, and Dalmatian puppy Jalila share a tent in the park. They have saved each other’s life, at least once. Honey moved into the park at a low point when she and her husband split up and her part time job faded away. The recent heavy rains wreaked havoc with her tent, sending it spinning in different direction, soaking all her belongings. As a single woman in the park, she is vulnerable. She has had many things stolen from her, including a nice bicycle. She’s been sexually assaulted more than once. But she can’t get the police to follow up on the charges. She has seen her rapist joking around with police. It wasn’t until she presented evidence they would even take her report.

Brittany has a degree in Early Childhood Education, a proud mother of a bright two-year-old, a boyfriend with skills in welding and tile work. She's cheerful and energetic. She's also addicted to heroin and meth. She battles with the two strong forces in her life: a desire to be a good mother to the son who loves to go with her on day trips to the beach or for ice cream, versus the desire to be with her boyfriend, who has trouble kicking the habit.

Raven tries on one of her beloved hats before stepping out. She found a home in a subsidized apartment building reserved for the homeless mentally ill.

Joanne Williams, 47, was born in Canada, given up for adoption as an infant, along with her siblings. She was taken in by a couple in Chicago, who helped her keep in touch with her siblings, and learn about her mother, who died at age 35 of lead poisoning. She followed her adoptive parents’ example and joined the U.S. Navy at age 19. In Seattle 20 years ago she was hit by a drunk driver, suffering major injuries and ending up in a coma. While working as security at Coachella she met her now-husband Eric, also a security guard. The couple are staying in a motel right now, paying by the month. On this early morning, she came to me and said in a shaky whisper, “I need to talk to someone. I was assaulted last night walking home from work.” Her eyes moved to the right, where dozens of people were gathering their tents and other belongings. “He’s here.” An hour later her husband arrived. He and a few others walk down the block to administer some street justice.

Sam walks the streets of downtown San Diego, lightly holding the leash of her pet Clyde, who pretends to care about the sights and smells around him. The sun hasn’t touched the tops of high rises rimming the parking lot that isolates Petco Park from the teeming homeless population starting to stir in the shadows along cyclone fences and the recessed doorways of closed businesses near Imperial Avenue.
 Sam lights her second cigarette in ten minutes as a voice from behind a tarp asks if anyone has toilet paper, and three men pushing carts stop just behind her to share a pipe. When her father was dying of pancreatic cancer, Sam stepped up to care for him. That was her undoing. Lifting him too many times, her back finally gave out when she couldn’t support him and his full weight fell on her. Her mother caved in to the stress of the situation and threw Sam out of the house. That was in 2002. Sam has been homeless ever since.

Sirprina is proud of her three grown children, all who live in Chula Vista. As a single mother working long hours cleaning homes and office buildings to make sure they all went to school and were well-fed, she feels a big part of her life was successful. That’s why, even though being homeless this past year and a half has been difficult, she feels hopeful about life in general. All those years at physical labor resulted in two hip surgeries and vascular necrosis. So she has trouble getting around. Sleeping on a sidewalk doesn’t make it any easier but she meticulously sweeps up around her sleeping space, carefully organizing her belongings before seeking shade and food for the day.

When the pandemic lockdown restrictions were first enacted in March, Rose and her boyfriend were suddenly locked out of the park they called home. Her adoptive parents, a gay male couple, moved from Santa Monica to San Diego while she was in her junior year of high school, poised to be the captain of her golf team, and lauded for her talent on the viola. She was about to become the first person in her birth family to graduate high school. She was excited about the golf scholarship with the title of having the longest drive for a female under the age of 15 in California. When the family moved to San Diego, however, there was no golf and her parents sold her viola. She moved into the park with her boyfriend and makes a living hauling other people’s rubbish to the dump, occasionally selling discarded items on eBay.

A San Diego native, she attended Clairemont High School, leaving just five credits shy of her diploma. The insecurity of being bounced around foster care homes and juvenile hall made it difficult to concentrate on her studies. And then there’s her daughter. Back with her mother for the pregnancy and birth, her mother ended up throwing her out when Serenity was 18 and the baby was a year old. She devised a legal agreement with her mother so that she could retain parental rights while her mother has the ability to make medical and legal decisions concerning the toddler’s well-being. “I wanted her to have stability,” she said. Now pregnant again, she is determined to find stable housing before the baby is born.